//------------------------------//
// Cloudsdale 
// Story: Soaring Skies 
// by Gallifrey 
//------------------------------//


Soaring Skies
by Gallifrey

Chapter Seven
Cloudsdale


Spitfire snorted.

The rest of the Wonderbolts stood in silence, all eyes fixed on the agitated golden mare as she paced up and down the rail platform. The low morning Sun was shining on her steely face.

"Rapid?"

"Ten to."

Snort.

The pegasus resumed her pacing, eyebrows growing narrower and narrower as the seconds ticked by.
Spitfire turned and snorted again, to see the stallion himself finally make an appearance.

"Hey Spits," said Soarin' warily as the train rolled into the platform, very conscious that everyone was looking at him.

"Soarin'," she said curtly, jerking her head to the train as it halted. Everyone scrambled on, eager to get out of the way of the imminent fireworks. Soarin' tried to get on too but Spitfire's eyes flared with an intensity to match her mane. The door snapped shut and the yellow mare took this as a cue to approach Soarin', who had been backed into the metaphorical corner.

"What do you think you're playing at?" she growled icily, a remarkable contrast to the fire in her eyes.

Soarin's ears immediately flattened at his friend's tone, but nevertheless, he was at a loss for what he'd done wrong.

"Wh-what do you mean?" he asked.

"Are you serious? Soarin', I'm not in the mood for fucking about."

"Whoa, whoa!" he said defensively. "Have I done something wrong?"

"You really don't have a clue do you?"

Soarin' ruefully shook his head.

Spitfire grabbed his head and pointed it forcibly at the clock on the station wall. Soarin's eyes shrank.

"It's five to TEN!" she yelled, rage finally boiling over. She wasn't called Spitfire for nothing. "The conference tonight in Cloudsdale we were supposed to be having? All rearranged, everypony has had to revolve themselves around you!"

"Ah..."

"I  specifically told you we leaving at nine today, no exceptions. But of course! How silly of me! Soarin' Windsong plays by his own rules! You left yesterday without telling anyone, Rapid was looking for you for ages, you could've been anywhere! This morning, still nothing! I was about to launch a search for you! Where the fuck were you?!"

"I-I met a guy called Braeburn," he began, realising how pathetic his excuse was.

"You were too busy seducing stallions," she said with deadly quiet, one of her eyes twitching. This just added insult to injury, not only was he late, it was because he was flaunting with ponies that weren't her. "Get on the train," she said acidly.

"Spitfire, I-"

"Get on the train!"

Soarin' didn't dare argue and slinked his way on, walking right past the rest of the Wonderbolts and hiding in a corner of the train. Spitfire stormed straight past him into the next carriage, slamming the door behind her.

-------------

After leaving Soarin' to feel guilty for a few hours, Spitfire finally made an appearance in Soarin's compartment.

"Hey," she said, sitting down opposite him.

"Hey," he mumbled, scared she was going to explode again. The fear must have shown.

"Don't worry, I've calmed down now," she said. She sounded it too, so Soarin' decided to let his guard down a bit.

"Spits, I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened. I was sure I got up in time, Braeburn specifically woke me up at like, eight, how did it take two hours to walk across town?"

He paused for a moment, for a bright pink mare bounced past them, singing in a bright chirpy voice.

"Plot holes, plotty plot plot holes!"

"Hmmm, anyway, what happened last night?" she half asked, half demanded.

"Nothing really. I made a new friend, that's it," said Soarin', resting his head on a hoof.

"I thought you stayed the night with him?"

"I did."

"So... did you get busy or not?" she said bluntly.

"Nope, turned out to be straight."

"Ah, sucks when that happens don't it?"

"You've done it with mares before?"

Spitfire stared blankly at him.

"You do know me, right?" she deadpanned. "There was Saturn Satin just the other month!"

"Oh yeah," said Soarin', his memory returning. He shifted slightly as he felt a familiar stirring sensation between his legs. He furrowed his eyebrows, was it the thought of two mares? Or could it have been... Spitfire?

"Soar?"

"Yeah?" he said, snapping back to reality, feeling slightly uneasy.

"Nothing, you just looked like you were thinking, unusual for you," she said teasingly.

"Hey!"

"You know I'm kidding pony boy. Besides, I wanna apologise."

"For what?"

"For losing my temper earlier," she said quietly, "I was- I was so worried about you, a-anything could've happened."
Soarin' was shocked to see that Spitfire looked on the verge of tears. He reached out a comforting and apologetic hoof, and she took it gently. "I've never been proud of my temper you know. I never told anyone, but that's why I haven't let Dash on the team yet. We all have arguments now and then, can you imagine both of us?" Spitfire shuddered. "The Bolts can only deal with one stubborn, headstrong mare at a time I think."

"Is that why? We were all wondering."

"It's not just that. She can be a little over confident, even for her prodigious skill, and she can't show off like she does now; we're a team of skilled athletes, not show offs. Anyway, I say nopony knows, she knows. I told her when I visited her after the Gala, do you remember? 'Cause we accidentally ignored her because we were so busy and all?" 

Soarin' nodded.

"She tries her best," continued Spitfire, "and believe me, it's very difficult, but if she's as determined as I think she is, she'll be able to pull it off. And if she can master herself like that, she can master anything we throw at her, and when she does, she'll most likely be the best flier Equestria's ever produced."

"You really know your stuff don't you? It's like you're training her already!"

"Aha, perhaps it is. I have full confidence in her... we're getting off topic. I'm sorry for yelling at you, but you know what I'm like... more than anyone, to be honest."

"Really?"

"Yes Soarin'," she said earnestly, tightening the grip she had on Soarin's hoof, "you're my best and oldest friend."

They sat in silence, looking into each other's eyes, having a whole conversation with no words at all, until Spitfire broke the spell.

"I-I'm gonna go back, there's some things I have to sort out and stuff... see ya later, yeah?"

"Sure," said Soarin', wondering what the mare had to do.

Leaving a puzzled stallion behind her, Spitfire walked down the train to her seat in another carriage. Reaching into her suitcase, she pulled out a map of Cloudsdale and began planning.

----------

Many, many hours later, the train arrived at Cloudsdale or, more specifically, arrived directly underneath the floating city.
Earth pony and unicorn members of the crew took a flying taxi up, while the pegasi simply flew. The Sun was setting now, setting the sky afire, and causing Soarin' to bump into Spitfire's rump; she blended into the yellow and orange sky like a chameleon. Not that she was complaining if it caused a certain stallion to fly into her rear, and to be honest, he wasn't complaining either.

"Spits? Where exactly is this conference?"

"Cloudsdale Coliseum, duh!" she said, laughing.

"Oh, right."

"Come on Soarin', it's only the same place that we've had every conference, like, ever.”

“It might have been a different place,” he defended.

Spitfire shook her head and they finally touched down on the floating sky city.

“Glad to be back home, pony gal?” asked Soarin’, playfully bumping into her, causing her to lose her footing slightly.

“Sure am! I always forget how beautiful it is.”

“Yeah,” said Soarin’ in agreement.

It was indeed beautiful. The unique architecture Cloudsdale harboured gave the whole city a mythic, almost alien feel; yet at the same time, very familiar and comforting, not unlike ordinary clouds. To pegasi, clouds were everything: they were shelter, beds, livelihood, even certain types of food when combined with other ingredients, but Cloudsdale was all of those and far beyond them, an entire city, the jewel in the pegasus race’s crown, a jewel that was now ruby red in the setting sunlight.

“Uh, guys?”

Rapidfire had come over to see what the other two pegasi were gawping at.

“Yeah?” said Spitfire vaguely.

“Aren’t we in a hurry to get to the Coliseum?”

“That’s a point,” Spitfire admitted. “Come on guys, let’s get going.”

---------

All in all, it had been a pretty standard conference, even if it was an hour late... Spitfire did most of the talking, occasionally indulging in teasing Soarin' in front of everypony, she loved watching him squirm:

And making his cheeks light up in the cutest blush...

The golden mare gave her head a little shake. She was walking under cold moonlight down the fluffy yet firm streets of Cloudsdale, and her hooves had carried her all the way to Soarin's abode. Seeing as how they were in their home town, it made sense to go home instead of paying for a hotel. Spitfire considered this a stroke of genius on her part, and she hummed happily, opening the gate to his front garden. With a giddy spring in her step, she approached the door, adjusted the scarf she was wearing, ran a hoof through her mane, and knocked.
A pale blue stallion opened the door with an expression of puzzlement.

"Spitfire? What brings you round here at this hour, is everything alr-" he stopped abruptly. "Is it me or is your mane different?"

Spitfire had indeed styled her mane so that it was no longer windswept, but flowing and floppy, it was a good look.



Spitfire giggled like a school filly at the derpy look on Soarin's face. That was new. She hadn't giggled like that in months, perhaps years.

"Yup, do you like it?"

"Like it? I..."

The golden mare's mane was bathed in moonlight, frosted silver beams that made everything ten times more beautiful, not that she needed it... he swallowed and looked around, feeling flustered.

"I was, um... wondering if you'd like to g-go for a walk with me?" she asked, heart fluttering madly and her cheeks blushing purest silver.

Soarin' just stood there, still trying to fathom why his best friend was spontaneously asking him if he wanted to go for a walk at half past eleven in the evening.

Spitfire chose this moment to bring out the secret weapon she'd been hiding this whole time. She pulled a box out of the saddlebag she was wearing, to reveal the one thing that she knew would make Soarin' putty in her hooves.

"I brought you a present, I think you might like it."

"Piiiiiie..." he said longingly, eyes widening and nostrils flaring, looking at the box.

"Apple: your favourite," she said enticingly. "For you."

"D-did you make this?" he asked, wondering when she could have done so.

"Yup, on the train this afternoon, in the catering carriage," she said, answering his unasked question. "Now, wanna walk?"

"B-but, piiiiie," he said wistfully.

"You can have the pie later, which would you like more right now?"

Soarin' considered. The pie was right there, like right there, but looking at Spitfire, whose eyes were half lidded and inviting, something told him deep inside that he'd be better off accepting Spitfire's offer.

"The walk," he said eventually.

"Sweet, grab your scarf pony boy and we'll get going.

"It's a date, pony gal," he said, scampering up the stairs, leaving Spitfire to wonder whether he'd said that on purpose or not.

----------

Spitfire and Soarin' were roaring with laughter outside their old school, blissfully reminiscing about their school days together.

"And then- and then he ate it!" said Soarin' through stitches of laughter.

Spitfire's face was one of mixed shock and mirth.

"No. Way."

"Yes way, he threw it up again a few minutes later, but seriously Spits, you missed out."

"I wish I was there to see it, why have I never heard this story before?"

"I'd completely forgotten it," said the stallion truthfully, “until just now, I guess seeing the old place again brings that sort of thing back huh?”

“Yeah, we had a lot of good times there,” said Spitfire, looking at the alabaster school fondly. “Of course, we’ve had loads of good times since, as well, with the Bolts and all.”

Soarin’s face fell slightly as their walk slowly lead them to Cloudsdale Park.

“What’s up?” asked Spitfire.

“I was just thinking, about the future and stuff,” replied the pegasus forlornly.

“And what exactly were you thinking?”

“I was wondering whether we’d still be friends after our retirement and stuff… we’re not gonna be in the Bolts forever after all.”

“Soarin’,” she said flatly, “you can be a real clutz sometimes. We’ve been friends for what, twenty years now? We were friends before we could even fly for buck’s sake! Why would we just fall apart like that?”

“I dunno, but if we did…”

“We won’t,” said the mare with such conviction that he dropped the subject. They walked in silence together for a time, taking in their surroundings. Cloudsdale Park was a park unlike any other in Equestria: for a start, it harboured the only airborne lake in the whole country, and with a combination of unicorn magic and earth pony skill, the pegasi had managed to plant and grow trees in the clouds. Up high, the Moon and stars shone their cold light, transforming the whole scene with their aethereal light.
Spitfire had been leading up to this point all evening, the collective effect of months and months of yearning was about to come to a boil; her dreams were either going to come true, or be shattered before her eyes. The heavy weight of this thought bore down horribly on her mind and heart. The golden mare looked out over the mirrored water and saw the beautiful sky reflected in its depths. She smiled; at least it was as perfect an evening as she could hope for.

“Sure is pretty,” said Soarin’, beholding the tranquil greyscale scene with a mild sense of awe.

“Not the best looking thing here though,” said Spitfire serenely, flicking her tail on Soarin’s snout. The stallion caught the faint, sweet scent of honey.

“Hmm, you’re right,” he said vaguely, looking at her rear end.

Spitfire’s eyes widened at these words, hardly daring to believe it. She turned slowly.

“What did you just say?” she asked quietly, though the whisper cut through the silent air like a knife.

Soarin’s cheeks blushed silver in the moonlight.

“Um, ah… er…” he stammered, looking down at his hooves, wondering why he had said that out loud.

“’Cause if you said what I thought you said, you might be in for a treat, pony boy.”

Soarin’ was a stallion of little words at the best of times, but was stunned into silence now.

“Spits, I-“

“You know,” began the mare, sitting down under a willow tree by the lake’s edge, “you’re the only pony who I let call me that…”

“I am?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

“Oh yeah, you’ve called me Spits ever since the day we met, do you remember that day?”

“Can’t say I do,” admitted the stallion sheepishly.

Spitfire’s eyes brightened, that was what she’d hoped he’d say.

“Well then, let me refresh your memory,” she said, scooting a bit closer to him. "Do you remember crashing into me?"

"Nope."

"Well you did; you were learning to fly if I remember correctly. But yeah, you collided with me, I was just minding my own business."

"Did I ever apologise for that?" asked Soarin'.

"I don't think you did, to be honest."

"Well, sorry about that," he said.

"Thanks. Anyway, you crashed into me, can you remember where?"

Soarin' looked around him as the pieces finally fell into place.

"H-here?" he guessed tentatively.

"Spot on, pony boy," grinned the golden mare under silver shadows.

"But... why?"

"Soarin', even you must see it by now," sighed the exasperated mare, booping him lightly on the snout.

"I-I think I do, but I'd like to be sure..."

"Tell me, what do you think?" said Spitfire, attempting to fluster him and succeeding magnificently.

"What I think? I- um, well, that is to say- it's difficult t-" He looked desperately into Spitfire's fiery amber eyes, but she offered no rescue. The stallion took a deep breath. "That you- that y-you like me?"

Spitfire leaned closer to him, tracing a hoof over his chest, causing the stallion to shiver slightly.

"I knew that it was in there somewhere," she whispered into his ear. She paused. "But... do you like me?"

"I-I... I think so... this is so d-different to anything I've felt before."

"You think so? Well, we can't have that can we? Because you, Soarin' Windsong, are not being honest." The mare flashed a grin at his puzzled face. "I may not have eyes on my ass, but I've sure as hay seen you looking at it quite a bit recently."

Soarin's guilty eyes shifted.

"S-sorry," he mumbled.

"Sorry for what?" she asked, dropping her voice to a more sultry tone. "Maybe I wanted you to look," she said with half lidded eyes. "Don't think I haven't been checking out your sexy flank too, pony boy." Spitfire sure knew how to push all his buttons, he'd give her that.
"Soarin'," Spitfire began, her voice dripping over Soarin' like treacle over pudding, "I- I lo-"

She was silenced by a pair of lips pressed softly against hers.

The years had brought many trials and tests for the two ponies, but they had proved inseparable, and now, under the same willow tree where they first crossed paths some twenty years ago, the two ponies shared their first kiss..

Spitfire was in a state of semi-shock, and, a deep warmth radiated from her heart as she felt his lips on hers. It felt almost electric it was so intense, yet it still managed to be tender. Spitfire reached out with a hoof and stroked Soarin's royal blue mane, continuing down, down, until...

*pomf!*

Soarin' could feel Spitfire's smile. He could also feel her hoof caressing his wings.

Oh wow, he thought hazily, drunk with passion as Spitfire pushed him onto his back and leaned over him, breaking the kiss.

"Soarin'," she began again, "I..."

The stallion put a hoof gently on her lips.

"Like it even needs to be said," he whispered. The golden mare chuckled.

"I guess not, not now you can finally see, you have no idea how close I've been to screaming it at you."

Soarin' looked sadly into her eyes.

"I-I'm sorry I'm not very observant," he mumbled.

"Hey, don't be sorry for anything Soar: you mean the world to me." She stroked his mane. "Never change, pony boy."

His expression softened.

"I promise, pony gal."

-----------

Some time later, they returned to Soarin's house, wordlessly agreeing that Spitfire was staying over too.
Soarin' looked up at the clock on his kitchen wall and sighed. Two o'clock... neither of them would be getting much sleep tonight.

"What's up?" asked Spitfire, seeing his expression.

"It's really late, and we won't get much sleep.

"Ah, but was it worth it?" asked Spitfire.

"Definitely! I'm gonna make some hot chocolate, want some?"

"Ooh, yes please!" she said enthusiastically. The night had grown a lot colder on their way home, and she kept shivering even after Soarin' chivalrously gave her his scarf.

"Head on up, it won't take long."

Spitfire spent a few minutes sitting on Soarin's bed, looking around his bedroom, illuminated by bright moonlight pouring in through the window. She could tell it was a stallion's room, simply because of how messy it was: bits of paper, books and empty bottles littered the floor. The window sill was taken up by more paper, mugs and spare change. She sniffed the air, it smelt of Soarin': freshly fallen rain and that scent she could only ever describe as 'male'.
It was a cosy little room, and one that looked well lived in, Spitfire loved it.
She pulled back the covers of the bed and was greeted by a certain magazine.

"So, Playpony, we meet again."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Soarin' might have been doing with such material in his bed.

"You naughty boy," she sniggered, "I wonder if he ever did see the picture of me in it..." she wondered, flicking to the page that featured her and tossing it casually to the end of the bed.
Soarin' entered the room, carrying two mugs, and stopped dead when he saw the magazine.

"You're insatiable aren't you?" Spitfire teased. 

"I, um, is that you?" he asked, setting the drinks down with slightly trembling hooves. 

"Why don't you take a look?" she said, snuggling under the covers. 

Soarin' picked it up and glanced at the title.

'Sexiest mare of the sky'

Underneath was a large picture of Spitfire on her hind legs, leaning against some changing room lockers. She still had her flight suit on, to a degree: it was unzipped so that only her legs and rump were covered up. Soarin' had seen her like this on many an occasion, so he was baffled why he found it so sexy all of a sudden. The yellow mare's mane was sodden and hung in lustrous curls over face and neck. Perhaps it was this that was driving him crazy.
He tore his eyes away from the picture and read the accompanying article. As he approached the end, the interviewer had asked her if she was currently seeing anyone, to which she replied, 'nah, but I have my eye on a certain someone, and I hope he realises or has already realised once he's seen this.'

He looked up at Spitfire, who was blushing furiously.

"Is that, ah, the first time you've seen it?" she asked.

"Yes actually, I don't know how I've not noticed it before now."

"The pages weren't stuck together were they?" asked Spitfire with a grin. 

"No!" exclaimed Soarin'. "At least, I don't think so..."

"I'm just kidding, pony boy."

"Oh right," he said, blushing. "When did you do this anyway?"

The golden mare's brows furrowed.

"Must've been about four months now."

"So... you've been playing the long game."

"The very long game," said the mare wearily.

"Oh I'm sorry Spits," he said sincerely, joining her in the bed.

"Doesn't matter, I won in the end," she whispered into his ear, nibbling it lightly, causing the helpless pegasus to shudder with delight. Spitfire laid a hoof over him and drew him closer. "And now I claim my prize."

She closed her eyes and kissed him, deeply and passionately. Soarin' ventured a bite on her bottom lip, which she seemed to enjoy. Spitfire eventually pulled back to look deep into his emerald eyes, they spoke volumes with that gaze.

"I love you," whispered Spitfire, placing a gentle hoof over his heart.

"I love you too, pony gal," he said, doing likewise.

And under the beam of moonlight, under the roof of Soarin's house, under the warm blankets of his bed, and under the loving embrace of the stallion himself, Spitfire drifted slowly and happily to sleep, with the stallion falling after as they dove into the world of dreams together, as one.


The End